


envious

by Caidepgun



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha Anakin Skywalker, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Angst, Breeding Kink, Cannibalism, Don't read if u like Qui-Gon, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Force (Star Wars) Deprivation, Forced Orgasm, Forced Pregnancy, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, IMMA MAKE U LOVE VADER!! DAMMIT, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied Past Gangrape, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Touching, Omega Obi-Wan Kenobi, One redeemining Quality, Past Abortion, Past Forced Prostitution, Past Rape/Non-con, Psychological Torture, Sex Toys, Stockholm Syndrome, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love, Vader is a sweetheart, Vader is the saving grace of this fic, Vaderwan, and i will stand by that, but like i fucking love Qui-Gon and i wrote this shit so where's the fucking logic, not really obikin, one soft burnt potato will win the heart of one very hurt onion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23195491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caidepgun/pseuds/Caidepgun
Summary: The Empire has captured Obi-wan Kenobi. The Jedi now sits inside of a cell, alone - waiting for his sentence, but what Darth Vader asks of him is a punishment worse than death.orThe slow and grueling torment of grooming Obi-wan into wanting to bear the Dark Lord's offspring.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader
Comments: 43
Kudos: 219





	1. serene passing, I am mourned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey reader!
> 
> I just want to give you a heads up because it's been brought to my attention that this story is very dark and like "lol i know i wrote" but unlike me, you don't have the full picture in you head so there's no way of coping.
> 
> Just a fair warning. It's very dark and I will break you. ;)

Captured by the Empire, Obi-wan spent his lonesome days trapped in a cell without a way out. 

He'd occupy himself with meditation - or at least trying to, it had been rather difficult to, due to the Force Suppressors he was given, instead, he spent the majority of his days pacing around his cage trying to form an escape plan.

As he paced a sudden release of air passed by Obi-wan's ankles as the front door of his small cell whistled open. Anakin adorned with an all-black suit stepped in. He scanned the quarters, heavy rhythmic breathing sent chills down the omega's spine - an unnerving fire began in his chest.

"Lord Vader." He stepped back, "What brings you here?" He mustered all his strength to stare directly into Vader's cold gaze.

The Sith didn't respond, instead, he took long strides toward him, Obi-wan retreated back till he was cornered.

The omega pressed himself against the wall. He knew Anakin wouldn't hurt him, but some nihilistic part of him knew his disciple was dead.

"You owe me." His voice was rough, his cool breath nuzzled against Obi-wan's neck. Bruting pheromones beat Obi-wan into submission, he stood there - praying the Sith did him no harm.

Vader's hand reached to the omega's abdomen, "You owe me." He repeated - stroking the omega's lower naval. His gloved hand tugged at the seams of Obi-wan's tunic. "Bear for me, omega."

He knew the Sith wasn't asking. He was demanding. Obi-wan timidly avoided his cold stare. His breath quickened as he felt his top being undone. 

Obi-wan's mind was clouded by his former Padawan's thick scent. Dizzied and confused, the omega attempted to free himself from Vader's grasp but he was slammed back on the wall.

Obi-wan coughed when his lungs burned as they were refilled with oxygen.

"Stay." 

The omega trembled, "Please, Anakin."

The Sith's hand wrapped itself around Obi-wan's neck - lightly tightening their grip as the Jedi pleased, "Stay."

"No!" Obi-wan summoned all his strength to kick the shadowy figure, the slap of metal and skin rang in the room, Obi-wan clutched the hand around his neck, his leg burned from the impact.

"Don't make me hurt you." Vader lifted the omega up by the neck, Obi-wan gasped for air and thrashed around - trying to free himself.

Obi-wan's vision began to blurry, his limbs grew weak, he tried to speak, "Anakin. You're hurting me. I-" but the words delicately faded into wheezes. 

Vader released his grip, the omega fell to his knees, Obi-wan coughed as he tried to sit up straight, he looked at the man above him. 

"You stole something from me." Vader crouched down, he grabbed a first full of auburn hair and yanked Obi-wan's face toward his. "I want it back."

Tears began to develop in the omega's eyes. "Anakin. Please don't do this."

Vader jerked Obi-wan's head up - revealing the omega's unmarked neck. "Don't worry. I won't damage you." 

| | | 

Obi-wan woke to his stomach cramping, he winced when he sat upright and grimaced as he scanned the room, his eyes widened in shock. He was no longer in the comfort of his grey plain pavemented cell. He shuffled to his feet - getting caught off guard by the soft velvety sheets underneath him.

He paced around the room - scrutinizing every detail. A large king-sized bed, one small table in the corner of the room - almost hidden, and a seat of chairs facing one another along with a fresher in a separate room. Obi-wan frantically locked his gaze at the door, he hesitantly approached the large structure.

He palmed the metal - knowing he was locked away in yet another cage, although, now, the cell itself was luxurious in every way imaginable. He glanced at the bed, beside it a small bookshelf and a nightstand. 

The room had a large window gazing over the vast emptiness of the cosmos. He gulped as he walked over to it. He pressed his forehead on the glass, closed his eyes, and wept.

The door clicked open. Obi-wan abruptly turned. Vader stood at the entrance. The Sith locked eyes with the omega, his scent quickly flooded the room - marking his territory, the man took a seat on one of the chairs. 

"When Padmé told me she was pregnant I was ecstatic." He crossed his legs, and leaned back against the chair's body, "As you may know, it's fairly difficult for female Alpha to get pregnant, but somehow we managed, " He felt the wry smile on the words Vader spoke, Obi-wan's throat tightened, shivers ran down his spine to his lower abdomen, he hissed at the pain.

"The doctor said there would be some mild cramping." Vader nonchalantly gestured at his naval region. 

Obi-wan scowled, "I don't-"

"Your implant." Vader specified, "I had it removed."

For a second Obi-wan lost his balance, he leaned against the glass, his mouth agape from the new information. "Anakin." 

"I was excited at the prospect of being a father, and when I felt the baby kick." Vader's tone brightened. "She was so beautiful Obi-wan." 

"Anakin." Obi-wan's forehead creased as he shook his head in disbelief. "Please, you don't want to do this." The Omega slowly walked over to the Alpha seated. He stopped in front of him, "Anakin listen to me I can't give you-"

Vader stood. The Sith towered over Obi-wan, at that moment he was struck at how utterly helpless he was when the alpha towered over him. Radiating off aggression, he guided his hands onto the Jedi's sides, "You can and you will."

"Anakin, I can't please you have to understand-"

The alpha pressed his hand against Obi-wan's neck and caressed the sensitive skin, the alpha's pheromones surged through Obi-wan lungs. The pine salutary scent clouded his mind. Vader lightly circled where Obi-wan's bonding mark would be.

The omega quickly pushed him away - or tried to, but Vader's solid form stood unshaken by Obi-wan's push, "You've always had a nice scent." The Sith's fingers dug into his side, "It's like honey."

"Anakin." Obi-wan's eyes were coated with glossy tears. "I don't want this."

"Do you think I care." He fastened the gentle hand on Obi-wan's neck - threatening the Omega once more. He applied a soft pressure on his jugular, "You will submit to me."

"Anakin. I can't give you what you want." Obi-wan tried to pry the hand on his side off but failed. "You don't want this."

Vader's loud respirator echoed through the room, "I've always wanted this." His hand drifted to the Omega's stomach, "But you stole it from me, and now, I'm taking back what belongs to me."

Obi-wan nearly choked on the words, "Raping me." His heart raced at the notion, "Won't bring you--"

The Sith chuckled. The hand on his neck loosened its clutch and began to gently stroke Obi-wan's collar bone. "I'm not going to rape you. That won't be any fun. No, Kenobi. You're going to beg for my knot."

| | |

"You're a failure, Master." Vader hissed from under the helmet, his voice thick with arousal. The fleshlight in the Sith's hand smoothly slid down his cock - drawing whimpers from the Omega's lips.

Weakened, Obi-wan squirmed under his restraints. Vader had pinned him onto the mattress using the Force. With his wrists restricted and legs spread, the Omega laid naked on his back panting under the Sith's hand. 

His legs trembled, "No." He moaned absentmindedly - drowning in Vader's pheromones; losing himself at the velvety texture engulfing his cock. He threw his head back - choking back a whine from the gruelingly lazy pace Vader set. The Sith's hand slowly guided the toy up and down, edging the Omega. 

"No, Master. You're a horrid excuse for a Jedi." Vader hovered above him, his hand jerked the toy faster - gaining a loud yelp from Obi-wan's lips. The Omega's hips rutted against his hand - desperately searching for his climax. 

"You're the reason why Anakin fell." Vader quickened the pace of his strokes, Obi-wan's pants grew uneven as he fought off the euphoria. 

With his free hand, the Sith traced the lean muscle on Obi-wan's inner thigh, "How many years did you imagine your Padawan mating you?"

His stomach quivered. Breathless, Obi-wan tried to deny it, "I never--" A moan escaped his lips when the Sith teaser his entrance. Obi-wan, in the hopes of the finger entering, inched his hips down. 

Drunk with need, he groaned encouragingly as the digit sank into him. "But you did Kenobi. That's why you brought her to Mustafar."

Obi-wan's breath hitched. _Padmé._

He struggled against the fleshlight's increase in speed, Vader inserted a second finger - scissoring him open. The slight burn of the stretch coiled in his lower abdomen. 

"You're a disappointment. Allowing your jealousy to bring his wife. You knew she would die, but you wanted it. You wanted him. Didn't you Obi-wan?" 

The burning pooled inside him, he felt his orgasm drawing near. "I never meant!" His mind drew a blank as Vader pushed in a third finger, "I didn't want--" Tears trickled down his face, "Her to die." 

"Don't lie to yourself. You wanted him all to yourself. You're selfish. You hated seeing her full with his child. You wanted that. You wanted him." 

Obi-wan's chest heaved erratically, his legs quivered in place, a needy sob fled his mouth. He shuddered violently as he came. 

_No._ _I never meant for her to die._

His eyelids grew heavy. Vader removed the toy, a mixture is cum and lube glistened on his limp cock. The Sith's rhythmic breathing eased his conscious, he wiped his slick written glove on the silky sheets before he stood up.

Vader took one last glance at him, "You're disgusting." He turned his heel and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was suppose to be a one-shot, but I just wanted to add onto it until I sob like a wounded animal, so enjoy~ (or i guess not lol, it's get worse from here baby!


	2. to live in remorse

"Obi-wan?" The Omega's drowsy groan echoed in the darkroom. Coruscant's moons bled in through the curtains of his quarters- bathing the room in a salutary grey, Obi-wan rubbed his eyes into focus as he looked at the door leading to the lounge. A young boy stood there with his legs shaking and his eyes puffy from tears.

"What is it dear one?" Obi-wan cooed- releasing calming waves into the air, he propped himself up on his elbows. Anakin's shoulder tensed up as he caught a gust of the citrusy smell. The boy stood alarmingly still- knowing better than to press him, Obi-wan lifted up his blanket and welcomed the pup, "Come here."

Anakin rushed to the bedside and catapulted himself under the sheets. Obi-wan let out a small 'oof' as the Padawan headbutted his chest, and wrapped his arms around Anakin- comforting the boy nestled into his breast. Anakin took in a deep breath, comforting himself in the Omega’s scent as he drifted off to sleep.

| | | 

  
  


It wasn't as though he had never thought of bearing a child. The thought crossed his mind quite often when he was in his former Master's presence. To have a broad frame corner him- trap him _even_ , to feel large hands wondering his body, the burn of his Master's beard on his skin as he keened helplessly- begging to be filled, to be taken and breed. To have anything that resembled intimacy from the man who both lifted and grounded him. Just something _anything_ that he could latch onto to call his own.

The first and last night his Master held him. He believed death to be near him as Qui-Gon peppered kisses on his legs, firmly holding them open as he traced along the fine lines of muscle and tendon, nibbling the soft flesh till he reached his slick coated entrance. He thought himself dead when his Master's tongue lapped up the wetness, dead when his fingers delved into him, when he alined himself perfectly and stretched Obi-wan open. His Master was gracious and docile, the slow thrusts pooled a pressure in him that Obi-wan had never experienced before. Innate and animalistic, he wanted his Master's knot and every gentle touch to his torso, legs and face only further that desire.

The thought of Qui-Gon's seed mesmerized him, being filled to the brim with cum excited his core. He wanted nothing more than for his stomach swell with Jinn's offspring, to settle down into domesticity with the man that offered him a second chance at life- a chance that he would have gladly thrown away at a drop of a hat if Qui-Gon offered him the life he always wanted.

Those large hands still taint his skin, teasing him with the memory of ecstasy as he was touched by others. Tormenting him with what he could never have. His Master. The thought of bearing Qui-Gon's offspring persisted well after he grovelled in front of the Council- begging them to let him keep Qui-Gon's promised Padawan. 

Persisted still when Anakin grew older, when he no longer needed a warm body to curl up next to at night. When his starry-eyed round face shifted into a narrow prominent shape. When Anakin took his first step into adulthood and consequently ignited another craving within the Omega- one he was ashamed to admit. One that opened his eyes to what his Master before him felt when he touched Obi-wan. He soaked up the light of the emotions, burying the need deep- blocking it out.

Anakin _did not_ assault him. _No_ , the newly presented Alpha caressed him in the same passion that his former Master had once. Prioritizing the Omega's pleasure over their own, Qui-Gon and Anakin cared for him. Worshiped his hips as they buckled into them, savored his tongue as they kissed him, consoled the soft skin they bit. Yet, Anakin was vastly different from his Master. There was no hesitation from the Alpha. Anakin's enthusiastic nips at his mating gland thrilled him- planting another _need_ inside him.

Now, with dread Obi-wan craved his Padawan's knot, to feel their skin pressing- writhing against one another, for Anakin’s inexperienced hips to slam into him. The hunger of Anakin replaced his deceased Master's, the boy he raised, the boy Qui-Gon died in vain for, the starry-eyed Padawan he trained.

Anakin was intoxicating, with his light familiar touches- begging him to turn, to look the Alpha in the eyes and acknowledge their shared attraction, to admit that he wanted Anakin, but Obi-wan was his Master. To want this with Anakin would be wrong and to admit that he wanted it warranted expulsion. Obi-wan couldn’t rid himself of the Order- his family, his home. 

His family. A family he had no emotional attachment to. Other than the occasional laugh together he didn’t feel it as home. _No_ , that notion only came to light when he was with Anakin. The Padawan’s perfume calmed him. He found solace in leaning against Anakin’s shoulder- scenting him, nestling into his chest as he drifted into sleep. But they couldn’t indulge the fantasy. They couldn’t do this. He was Anakin’s Master and Obi-wan saw him as his brother- the boy that would replace him and lay claim to Qui-Gon’s attention after he was Knighted. Even as Obi-wan taught the young boy, he never really saw Anakin as _his_ Padawan. To call Anakin _his_ left a bitter taste on his tongue. Anakin was never really his _anything_. He could never be anything more than a daydream.

The conjured fantasy of having the Padawan as his. Them laying next to one another while the soft vibration of the Alpha’s purrs eased him. Having Anakin’s arms wrapped around him, cuddling him. The awkward laughs Anakin huffed out whenever he would try to flirt. His bright smile. Naive hands. Inexperienced lips. Dazed look. Awestruck hips. Shaky legs. Obi-wan wanted it all- he wanted everything. 

Some part of him wished he laid claim to the Alpha when he had the chance. To sink his teeth into the delicate gland of Anakin’s neck when he was a boy. To hug Anakin as he cried and tried to understand why his Master branded him. He wanted to embrace the boy he forced into being his everything. To tell Anakin that he loved him so much that he would rather die than see him with another, but he could never come to do that and when he mustered the courage propose to Anakin- the idea of them being together not as Master and apprentice but as a family it was too late….

_She always had a very homely smell about her- almost gaggingly pleasant. Obi-wan watched as she entered the ship’s lounge and strolled where he was seated. Padmé tucked in her dress before she sat down next to him and with one hand on her growing belly- she sneered. "Hello, Obi-wan."_

_He smiled- a forced courteous gesture. He didn’t want to seem disrespectful, especially to their guest. His eyes naturally wandered down to her pregnant bump. Unapologetically starting, his gut churned as its own emptiness._

_Padmé cleared her throat._

_"Oh yes." Obi-wan snapped to, mentally slapping himself as he choked the words out, "Hello, Senator.”_

_She chuckled as her hands caressed her stomach- taunting him, "Would you like to feel?"_

_A light amber burned from his ribs and into his heart - he felt his pulse stammer, and with a cautious exhale, "Oh no. Senator. I'm quite alright."_

_"Come on Obi-wan." Anakin entered the ship's lounge, a slack relaxed aura around him, "It's not every day you get to feel a baby!" He eagerly kneeled down in front of Padmé, "May I?" The woman removed her hand and welcomed Anakin's touch, "See Obi-wan."_

_The amber scorched his sternum- pooling into his lower abdomen, "Anakin." He managed to expel a whisper intended to scold the Alpha.._

_"No, it's alright. Plus the baby likes it." She guided the Alpha’s hand around her belly. She began to purr as Anakin's hand roamed her body freely._

_Obi-wan swallowed as he ogled the kneeling man's content expression. His soft smile eased the dark circles under his eyes, his creased forehead softened with delight, his Force signature radiated pride, joy, and excitement._

_He'd never seen Anakin happier._

_And then it clicked in Obi-wan's mind.The fire simmered in his stomach and with it's growing intensity, he watched Anakin stroke her pregnant belly. Watched hands that had touched him the previous night stroke her belly._

_"Congratulations, I've heard it's very difficult for Alpha females to bear."_

_'Anakin!' Obi-wan sent through their bond, but the Alpha didn't even bat an eye, his gaze still fixated on the woman in front of him. The scorching sensation only deepened when Padmé flashed her perfect teeth._

_"Thank you." She turned to Obi-wan, "Are you sure you don't want to touch the baby?"_

_He remembers the pleased look on her face when she spoke. The soft lines of her smile as she taunted him with that he could never have. There she smiled as Anakin- her husband touched her in front of him, her husband’s whore._

_It was fruitless. Obi-wan’s attempt to make Anakin his. It ended as soon as it began. With lazy nights, trying to forget the stress of the war. Only once. They both recited as if prayer every time their sessions ended._

Reflection is a dangerous thing. Obi-wan laid on the bed fully clothed. _Thank the Force_. Alone in the room given to him by the Sith. he faced the large window overseeing vast space - mind adrift questioning his past decisions. No, lamenting his regrets. Obi-wan propped himself up by his elbows, threw his head back in self-pity. 

_The gentle sway of her hips as she walked over to Anakin, hand still on her inflamed belly. The two of them were too far for the Omega to hear anything, but he could still taste satisfaction and joy in the air, he could still feel Anakin’s happiness bled into their bond. Anakin burst out laughing. The alpha looked around the lounge, his eyes locked on Obi-wan, who abruptly averted his gaze feeling ashamed and as if he just witnessed something terribly intimate. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Anakin tenderly cupping Padmé's face- singing praise to an undeserving Alpha, a pregnant Alpha, his pregnant wife._

_It wasn’t that he didn’t know that Anakin and the Senator were close. Anakin had an undying adoration for the woman since childhood, but he never imagined that it flourished into anything other than an ill-tempered crush. Something not to be reciprocated, like his desire for Anakin. Something not to be spoken of but rather alluded to in the nights they shared. Yes, a simple Love or Dear One._

_Her boorish hand gently combed through Anakin's hair. She babbled sweet nothings into his ear as she tied his hair up in a bun. Anakin sprang to his feet and giddily flaunted her handy work. The dimples on her cheeks dipped as she laughed. Obi-wan silently watched from the cockpit. Her cackle germinated vile emotions within him- they sat in his gut as his knuckles turned white, he leaned against the ship's control console. Agitated, he recited the Jedi Code._

Regretting and mourning past opportunities, Obi-wan slowly lowered him back on the bed and inched under the covers, he closed his eyes. Frantically purging his memory, the Omega ran a hand down his unmarked neck...

_Her whorish pheromones sept into every corner of the ship. Obi-wan patted his pillow- attempting to delouse the fabric of her scent to the best of his abilities. He tossed the plush cushion on the bed when he realized he couldn't rid it of its loose stench. He collapsed on the hard mattress, deeply inhaling the familiar aroma of Anakin's salutary musk._

_His eyes shot open. Upon the realization, he immediately stumbled off the mattress, where the two Alpha's scented wantonly harmonized. The blankets smelt like her. No, them. The gravidly warm sensation crept inside his stomach as he stood up, and marched out his quarters to sleep in the control room_. 

Anakin or Vader- he didn't know at this point, made it a priority to stop by his prisoner's quarters whenever he had the time. The Sith would immobilize the Omega then nail him to the nearest surface and begin pleasuring him till he begged for release, all the while whispering rough praises and sweet insults. 

The cold metallics surface pressed against his cheek reminded him of the countless _'No's_ he's cried out. Shoved onto the small table, Obi-wan struggled against the Force grip on his wrists and shoulder. He was bound faced down and legs dangling off the table. The Omega peered over his shoulder. With limited movement, he could only see through his peripheral and there behind him stood a gallant Vader. Obi-wan bit back the urge to kick the Sith, but the sting of the bruises on his neck pleaded him otherwise. Anakin was very keen on the idea of choking- and that bled into Vader's persona. A lot of mannerisms that were once present in Anakin were in Vader, he'd come to recognize them the more often the Sith would visit. They were small things, really. The stances he took when they argued, the sly comments he would make, the slight head tilts that would make his heart flutter. _Anakin_. He convinced himself everytime he saw his Anakin the Sith, but it would all come crumbling down once he wrapped a hand around his throat and lifted him by the neck

He felt the grip around his shoulders and wrists loosen, he would have taken the opportunity to squirm out of the Force grip, but he was startled by the sudden tug of his trousers. He flinched when the cold recycled air of his quarter's brushed past his exposed legs and ass. Obi-wan's heart quickened, his voice hoarse from his past attempts of struggle, "Anakin!" His knuckles turned white as he clenched his hands not a fist, his nails dug into calloused palms- drawing blood he hissed a sob. "No!"

The door whistled open once more. Obi-wan darted his head over. A Chiss woman and a med droid walked in. The color on his face drained as they approached. Vader stepped aside- letting the woman inspect the exposed Omega. She looked at the med droid and gestured something. The droid immediately gathered a measuring tool from its chest compartment. Obi-wan closed his eyes. Wishing he wasn't there, he pretended as if he didn't hear the cold slap of rubber on skin. 

The woman reached out and patted his ass. The Omega flinched at the sudden contact. She pulled the tool out from the droid's compartment and guided it across Obi-wan's hips. She measured the width and diameter then murmured an apology before he dipped her finger into the cleft of his ass. Tracing the swollen rim, she inserted a small device then pulled it out. 

"He's in great health." She concluded. "Although, the Force suppressants have not been tested on pregnant Omegas. I suggest that before the insemination the Omega is given a detoxing period to allow the chemicals to filter out of his system."

"Very well." 

She then inserted the device into the med droid. The droid chirped before it flashed the results. "The most fertile time-period will arrive in a month or so."

"And the insemination."

"I believe that it is best for the baby to wait for the effects of the drug to wear off."

The Sith gently nodded. And with that, the Chiss and her droid left. Vader released the Omega from the grip- Obi-wan came tumbling to the ground. Feeling defeated, he slowly pulled his pants up and tightened the belt around his waist till he felt the leather cut into his skin. His eyes burned, nose itched, his cheeks flared up with frustration as tears developed in the corners of his eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you stole _her_ from me.”

Obi-wan scoffs. Denial surges through him. Her? Padme? Or was he talking about Leia? His daughter? What was he to say? Tell him that Leia can walk, that she can murmur incoherent phrases, that she misses her dad? _No_ , that's beyond stupid. Is that all this was? Is this all about a child? Did the Sith Lord really want a child that badly as to force himself on the Omega? Maybe it was out of pity, rage, betrayal even...

Bitter, the Omega glares into the tinted lenses of the blasphemous mask, “I didn’t take kriff from you.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong Kenobi. You took _everything_.” Vader loomed over him. “My wife, my child, my body.”

He couldn’t help but snicker. _This is ridiculous_ . This entire thing. _All of it._ This cursed situation that both thrilled and repulsed him. Being touched by Anakin- the boy he raised, his fallen comrade, excited him but there was pain behind that excitement. Perhaps from Anakin’s death or from their unspoken agreement. Nostalgia coats his eyes- glistening with tears, he laments that which he wished he could have been, “I’m not Padme.” 

There is silence. _Well_ , there was _always_ silence between him and Anakin. Uncomfortable, stifling silence- their signatures would wrap around one another- seeking comfort, grasping at fleeting attraction, grieving what never was. His chest ached at the memory. 

“I know.” Sadness lingered on his tongue. What he _never was_ to the man he loved. 

Some sick part of him thrived on the pain. He was always drawn to it- hurting was the only form of comfort he felt safe in. And in a way, never being with Anakin bettered him as a Jedi. In a sick, twisted way. It bettered him as it had done when Qui-Gon denied him love. When his Master turned his back on him and left him alone. Alone during his heat- to be taken by strangers. Touched once out of love and left out of compassion to suffer. His hair was pulled, legs pried open, gagged and beaten for pleasure as his Master watched. 

He deserved it. Jinn deemed him unworthy of being _his_ . He desired the cuts, the bruises, the sore shaken limbs, the blood dripping down his thighs. Obi-wan remembers laying there. _Alone_. Slicked in seed- gasping for air as his body trembled in pain. The men left one by one, as his mind blurred in and out of focus. He doesn’t remember how many there were or how long it lasted all he remembered was one thing...

The scene burned into the back of his eyelids. The cold brush of a boot on his head. Using his shoe, Jinn moved him by the chin to look at the withering Omega. With his neck mangled with bruises and sweat, he watched as his Master towered over him. His Master’s face was a dreadful neutral, calming almost. Unaffected by the Omega panting on the ground below him, Jinn spoke- words that Obi-wan would never forget, words that crippled him- words that hurt much more than his wounded flesh, “You’re disgusting.”

His wounds healed, his resolve and self loathing festered as he grew older, wiser, but that never seemed to describe what he was. It was wise to let his attachments go, to rid himself of the love he felt for his Master, the infatuation he directed at Anakin. That would have been wise. _No_ , Obi-wan was not wise. He was driven by fear. An impending need to attach himself to any and all resembled love. The love he felt when Jinn embraced him, the love he felt when Anakin palm his skin. How complete he felt to have Anakin kissing him, nuzzling his nape as they waited for the Alpha’s knot to deflate. How whole he felt when Anakin carried him off to the fresher and washed him clean.

Hands lathering his body as they cleaned him of his past, Jinn, the countless men that his Master took him to whenever he was in heat. How Anakin would nibble his shoulder in the tub, whisper sweet nothing to calm him. Promising him the life he craved to have with Jinn, the promise of being filled- for his belly to grow. To have Anakin claim him as his. The one thing Jinn refused to do. Anakin promised to fill that void- to make him feel anything more regret.

Vader extended his hand and beckoned Obi-wan to take it. The Omega hesitantly reached out. He wanted to feel those hands that once caressed his body- hands that bathed him, worshiped him, anything other than the cold unyielding grip of a glove, but that was wishful thinking. The Sith lifted him up off the ground with the same hands he used to kill Jedi- the same hand that Vader used to strangle him. 

Those gloved hands settled on his hips and traveled to the belt fastened on his hip- the belt that was cutting into his skin. Vader removed the leather and clutched it in one hand as the other gathered Obi-wan’s arms. The Sith bound his wrists, turned the Omega and guided him to the mattress.

He deserved this. Obi-wan was thrown on the bed- facing down he felt his legs shoved apart as he kneeled. His forehead pressed on the silk beneath him. He felt the soft pop of a container as he bit his lips to muffle a cry.

Vader gently slid his pants down he paused when he saw the pink scratches from the belt, tracing a thumb over the cuts he slowly glided his hand down to Obi-wan’s hips- lingering on the bone, before running a finger down the cleft of the Omega’s ass. Slowly circling the swollen entrance, Obi-wan felt a heat in his naval as Vader’s finger delved past the delicate ring of muscle, relishing the sensation Obi-wan pushed back against the finger- taking more of the digit inside him. 

His hairs stood on end as Vader removed the finger. Some sick part of Obi-wan wanted this. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted to be beaten and used as the Sith’s slave. To be forcibly taken as he had been so many times before, but Vader never allowed him that satisfaction. _No_ , the Sith wanted him to enjoy it: to writhe in pleasure- to moan his name as he came.

The bed dipped as Vader settled onto the mattress behind him. Obi-wan didn’t dare turn to look at him- he didn’t need to. It wasn’t like he could see his face. So instead he hid in the sheets. The Sith’s hand grabbed his ass and spread him- exposing his most sensitive parts. He felt Vader pause- sitting there alarmingly still as he soaked in the sight of slick oozing out of the Omega’s hole. 

He should be screaming. Obi-wan groaned as he felt a round cool surface touch his entrance. He should be thrashing around and denying the Sith the satisfaction of pleasuring him. Vader gently pushed the object in. Deliberately going slow so Obi-wan could adjust to the sensation. The Omega’s gasped as the toy’s head entered. Grinding his hip back, Obi-wan bit down on the sheets. He craved more. He wanted something warm. Something that Anakin had given him.

The toy was slicked with cream. Vader was always careful- treating him as if he was made of porcelain, as if he would break easily, like he couldn’t endure more than dolce taps to the skin. If only the Sith knew of how many bruises and scars he accumulated from his heats. How Jinn would drag him into abandoned buildings, how he would count the money he earned as Obi-wan laid sobbing on the floor. How many men gathered around him- awaiting their turn, each rougher than the other. All of them tearing at his flesh until he passed out. 

Vader’s hand eases on his hip as he pushes the toy further inside-gaining a whimper from Obi-wan. Needy, the Omega pushes back. He wants it harder, he wants to throw up. He wants Vader to wreck him, to leave him laying on duracrete as Jinn counts money. He wants to relive that moment- that moment that scarred him. He wants Vader to remind him what he is. _No one’s._

He’s nothing without Anakin’s loving touches. The Alpha’s sweet lies. Chapped lips on his- on his wife’s. The deceit, the nights spent away from her apartment. Lying, he misses the pain of realizing that Anakin wasn’t his. That some one had laid their claim on **his** Anakin.

Obi-wan feels tears develop his eyes- glossing them with a pearly hue. The stretch from the toy burns his insides. He sees the bulge of the head on his lower naval. He hid his face back in the sheets, ignoring the pleasure brewing inside him. He tried to focus on the pain, on the sweet pain grounding him to reality, but there was none. There was never pain when Anakin touched him behind Padme’s back and there isn’t pain when Vader touches him.

He fears there will never be pain. There will be nothing tethering him down to his bondage. Nothing there to stabilize him from being consumed by these thoughts, by Anakin- by Vader. Nothing to tend to when Vader is away. Nothing to watch heal as his mind empties out into nothingness. He wonders if Vader knows that he thrives under pain. 

The Sith must know. Why else would he be so gentle? 

_Because he loves you._

The voice of remorse whispers in his ear a longing he wished he didn’t have. He feels the toy retract- nearly leaving him. Mourning the sensation, Obi-wan meets the Sith’s sluggish thrusts. Bottoming and unsheathing, the motion is painfully slow- inching Obi-wan closer to climax with every pulse to the sensitive tissue.

Pain. He needs to hurt. In a drunken heave Obi-wan grabbed his hardened cock and covered the slit seeping precum. He presses hard on the head and ceases the spilling. His insides sting- a pleasant burning sensation, but not the sensation he wants. He wants pain. He wants to pass out from it. To be brutalized till he lies motionless on the floor. To watch, hopeful, as Jinn approaches him, spits on him and abandons him in some old, ruined warehouse. To watch the back of a man he loved disappear. 

Tears stream down his face as he feels his orgasm draw near. He loathes the pleasure. Vader nudged his hands away from his length. Unable to refuse, Obi-wan removed his hands and grasped the silk beneath him as the Sith matched the toy’s pace with merciful strokes.

With a spasm Obi-wan spills in Vader’s hand. Pulsing around the toy, he nestles into the mattress panting from the stimulation. He lays there. Some part of him wishes that the Sith was heartless. Heartless enough to leave him to pick up the broken pieces, but Vader isn’t. No, he cares for him. With a touch of the Force, Obi-wan is flipped on his stomach. He watches as the Sith walks into the fresher and back with a towel in hand. He wipes the sweat off the Omega. Carefully rubbing the slick off the toy and his hand, Vader looms over the bed. He lunges over and pulls Obi-wan by his bound wrist. Undoing the belt, he walks to the door and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	3. them, to whom i loved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentioned Abortion, Reference to casual cannibalism

It’s a long robe. It drags on the floor with all it’s confined elegance as he walks. Teal waterfalls of laced ribbons and nylons are sewn into the rich fabric. Similar to his Jedi robes, but refined in it’s grandeur. Underneath the robe is a thin- almost see through- collared button up hugging his figure, extenuating the curve of his hips as they meet the high waisted loose trousers, perfectly fitting for his narrow hips. Lamenting the fine tailored clothes, Obi-wan grimaces at the memory of Anakin looking at the size of his robes. The Alpha always had a knack for estimating the most private part of his life. It was a strange, odd talent. In a way, it paid off because even as Vader, the Alpha still retained that unusual ability. 

His hands are covered by the sleeves of the robe as he reaches out to one of the books laying on the table, books that Vader brought. _Something to take your mind off the stress_. He hears the harsh voice play in his head as he flips through the contents. Skimming the pages of the novel he sets it down back where Vader had placed it.

He can’t read, not like this. Escapism is a longed tragedy he can’t afford to get caught up in. Not even for the ancient Jedi texts. His eyes wander back to the stack of books. He should not encourage Vader to give him presents. He looks down at the clothing, he _should not_ be wearing these. He palms the fabric on his chest- clutching the cloth he drops to his knees. 

Wrapping his arms around his shins he crouches, letting tears develop in his eyes he sits down on the smooth pavement of steel. Staring off into the cosmos, Obi-wan crosses his legs- one over the other, slacks his shoulder and extends his arms on his legs. He closes his eyes and tries to reach out to the Force for solace, but she doesn’t answer back. He screams into the endless void, begging for her reply but he’s only met with a faint echo of his own call. 

He thins his lips into a frown as he tries over and over till his stomach grumbles. It’s only been a few days since the Chiss woman told Vader to take him off the Force suppressants. _They must still be in his system,_ Obi-wan concludes as he stands. He’d never been forced to be on suppressant for an extended period of time, and when he had it was to control the heats. War wasn’t kind to an Omega, especially when surrounded by nothing but Alphas. He’d never been uncomfortable around them but just the sheer amount of Clones he commanded, how many of them openly sniffed and scented him chilled his bones.

He couldn’t help but blame himself when the men were distracted. Anakin called _it_ their weakness, ‘ _Having an Omega command an army isn’t the smartest thing Master. After all, your scent is_ **_very_ ** _distracting.’_ Anakin grazed his hand on Obi-wan’s nape- teasing him with the possibility of mending the problem with a bond, but whenever Anakin nibbled at the skin it only taunted him. A bite- a claim would have fixed everything. He wouldn’t have been a liability or a _distraction_ to his men. An Omega’s scent only grows sweeter to their Alpha and he desperately wanted to be Anakin’s but the General never yielded; he was too faithful to his wife…

Obi-wan paces around the bed before he tossed himself under the sheets. He takes a deep inhale, the Sith’s weak scent still lingers on the silk. Vader tended to scent the room every time he visited- it was ritualistic: to walk in and ooze off the salutary aroma, a burned amber of it’s past lavishness into the air before he approached Obi-wan with pleasure.

Yet, Obi-wan doesn’t find himself repulsed by the Sith’s hands over his body or his scent. He does not gag when he thinks of Vader pleasuring himself through him, in fact, he does not feel much of anything other than guilt and remorse. But those feelings do not stem from their interactions. No, that would be a callow scapegoat. Obi-wan does not feel weak, small when he is held by Vader. He feels empty and alone when those gloved hands touch him in earnest. Empty, he mourns Anakin’s Padawan days. Alone, he knows he will forever be and yet somehow- through, self loathing the pain of solitude does not eat away at him, but it nutritious his resolve. 

With his mind adrift, he dreams- projects into the barren Force a savoured longing he is ashamed to confess. An Anakin that he owns. An Alpha he bared his teeth into, a man he yearned to call his husband- as Anakin’s wife once did. To openly hold his hand, to flaunt the notion of happiness and completeness in front of the Council and turn their back on the Code. He finds that in his lucid fantasy, that perhaps in another time, in another vast universe of self, he and Anakin lived their days bathing one another with their perfume, gracing one another with transparency, with openness, nakedness. In acquiescence light they entangle their Force signature and become whole- like two carved from one.

In some distant reality, he knows that he and Anakin were one and he finds solace in that thought. That he may be reborn and find his Anakin waiting for him- unmarked by another. Ready to be taken as his, but that notion sicknesses him. In another distant world he knows that he and Anakin can never be, not as friends, comrades, brothers or lovers and so Obi-wan sleeps- drowning himself in a convulsed fantasy of one day embracing Anakin in sincerity.

With heavy lids, the Omega rolls on his back. He’s quickly assaulted by Anakin’s fragrance. Taken aback by it’s potency Obi-wan greedily inhales, raking his fingers through his hair, his stomach aches from hunger as he props himself up on his elbows. Drowsy eyes scan the dark room, his muscles tense up when he sees Vader sitting on the chair- reading the book the Omega refused to indulge in.

The Sith’s black armour is painted in a lavender hue from the nebulous cosmos bleeding color into the room. Vader looks almost blissful in bathed copics, the cosmos’ lights bounce off the plain grey tint of the room and bursts into shades of blush and coral. The Sith’s wretched helmet is almost blinding as it perfectly refracts the rich salmon. 

It takes a moment for the Sith to notice Obi-wan's ogling and when he does he places the book down on the table and pushes it toward the center. He turns to the Omega. Obi-wan’s eyes are drawn to the table. There lies a tray of food. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“I’m not.” Obi-wan looks out to the painted atmospheres- admiring it’s shades.

“It will be here when you are.” The Sith slowly stands- the chair scraps on the floor as it’s pushed backward, birthing a horrid noise that slaps Obi-wan into vigilance. The Omega nuzzles back in the sheets- nestling into the pillow as Vader approaches him. Hiding in the silk, Obi-wan pretends not to notice when Vader halts at the foot of the bed. 

The Sith’s gaze burns into his skin- littering the soft surface with goosebumps. Obi-wan doesn’t move; He doesn’t dare move. Frozen, he lays on his side. The neon lights bouncing off the walls ease the Omega. Temporarily calming him as Vader moves toward him- settling on the bedside the Sith towers over him. His figure blocks the window- voiding Obi-wan from seeking the cosmos. He extends his hand--

“Don’t touch me.” Still peacefully laying on his side, Obi-wan glares at the man above him. Unflinching, the Omega props himself up on one elbow. Meeting the Sith’s gaze directly, Obi-wan moves backward- distancing himself from the Alpha. 

He doesn’t want to be touched. Not out of pity, not out of a need. Not to be groomed into wanting a child. No, he doesn’t want that and so he won’t let Vader get near him. The Sith doesn’t push instead he- in an almost defeated manner, walks back to the table and sits down, picks the book up and resumes to reading. Obi-wan watches, puzzled, Vader doesn’t force him. Not unless absolutely necessary. Was this visit not necessary?

Cautiously, Obi-wan unravels himself from the sheets and lets his legs dangle off the bed. He stares at Vader. He’s calm- scenting the air with sweet serenity. The Omega stands and makes his way to the fresher.

When Obi-wan comes back, Vader is still sitting there reading. His stomach aches in knots- a deep grumble arises from his gut. Hesitantly, the Omega walks over to the table and takes the seat across from Vader. 

The Sith doesn’t say a word, he flips the page and remains silent as Obi-wan unwraps the tray and begins to eat. There is silence- comforting yet anxious. There was always silence with Anakin, yet this _feels_ different. He swallows a bite. Anakin hated silence, he always needed something to latch onto. Whether it be merging their signatures until they were whole, or scenting the Omega until he smelt only of him. Anakin hated being calm, being peaceful. He needed something to do and tending to Obi-wan was that thing.

Obi-wan looks up from his plate to the Alpha. It’s as if he’s not even there, Vader doesn’t acknowledge him and if he does- maybe through a glance then Obi-wan can’t see it because of the heavily tinted black lense. 

“Have you been experiencing anything out of the regular?” Vader doesn’t lift his gaze from the book.

“No.” Obi-wan brings the spoon to his mouth, “Why?” He bites down.

“The Healer informed me that there could be symptoms from suppressants.” 

“Such as?”

“Night Terrors. Anxiety. Dehydration."

"And you think of telling me this now? Obi-wan scoffs as he brings another spoonful to his mouth.

"It hadn't come up."

Obi-wan released a gurgled laugh- nearly choking on the food in his mouth, he palms his throat as he swallows. "Hadn't come up when? When you assault me? Or when you choke me? Do tell."

Unfazed, Vader flips to another page, "It has now."

He runs his tongue across his teeth- picking out the food atop his mouth. "That's _great_."

Vader sets the book down. His fingers linger on the hardcover as he brings his gaze to the Omega. "You're upset."

Another laugh, " _How astute of you."_

Vader sits still.

It's uncomfortable. Being watched. Obi-wan can't help but shudder as he disregards the Sith's stare. When he's finished, the Omega stands and wipes his mouth with the oversized sleeve. Vader follows. 

He feels it. This helplessness as Vader approaches him, his shoulders broad- much broader than Anakin's, his body overshadowing his own frame. Anakin had always been significantly taller than him, but Vader towers over him- nearly two heads taller, the Sith commands respect, and with his stance more defiant and posh- menace in his stride, he corners Obi-wan against the window.

The transparisteel's cold grasp bleeds through the fabric and burns his back as he's pressed on it. Vader's hand palm his throat. He massages the faded bruises on the thin neck. 

"Strip." The command is colder than the transparisteel on his skin. Reluctantly Obi-wan slides the robe off his shoulders. The cloth drops on the ground. Next he in bottoms the collared shirt. Lazily prying off each button, the Omega undresses him. He reaches down to the hem of his pants but Vader grabs him by the wrist. "That's won't be necessary." 

Obi-wan brows are firmly knitted, he watches as the Sith takes out a small kit from his one of the compartments on his belt and opens it. Inside a small it a small hypodermic needle. The Omega is taken aback and hides his arms behind his back.

Vader extends his hand- beckoning for the Omega to take it, "It will not hurt, I promise."

That's not what he's worried about. If anything, it hurting should calm him, but the Sith extracting blood from him, and Omega. No, He can't, the last thing he wants is to be devoured by a Sith.

**"Sweet…almost like candy." Jinn's voice flickers in his ears.**

It was true. The blood would ruin, if not condemn him to a worse fate than bearing Vader's offspring. Obi-wan winced at the sight of Vader beckoning his arm. No, he wouldn't give. "No." 

"Very well." Vader places the tool back in the kit and on his belt.

It's odd. Obi-wan lowered his defense. The Sith should put up more of a fight. He should be demanding not asking. He should be ruthless, he should stab the Omega if need be.

"What frightens you, Kenobi?" 

Obi-wan unseemly flinches when he feels a hand on his side. 

"Are you scared I might devour you?" 

He purses his lips into a frown. 

"No?" Vader tucks an arms behind the Omega's back and crouches down ever so slightly to hook his other arm behind his knees. The Sith lifts Obi-wan off the ground with ease and walks over to the mattress. "Then what frightens you?"

He sets Obi-wan down, "Do tell." His tone mocks the Omega's earlier statement.

“Tell me, Kenobi.” Gloved hands glide down his torso- lingering on his breast, cupping the muscles as he caresses the sensitive nubs as Vader palms his skin. Gracing the Omega with soft delicate touches, large hands obstinate his torso with silent appraises. Obi-wan winces as the texture of the gloves graze his nipples, back arches as the Sith traces the thin lines where muscles meet- traveling down his from the Omega’s chest to his naval- letting a finger circle his belly button before inching closer and closer to the hem of Obi-wan’s pants’

He laid on the mattress, face up, his hands anchored on Vader’s shoulder as the Sith loomed over him. The cape on his shoulders draped over them, Obi-wan’s hands were firmly pressed on the cold synthetic cloth, fisting it for comfort, he bit back moans as the Sith’s hands wandered his body. Sometimes he wondered if Vader could feel his skin, the rising heat emanating from his body as he was being touched. Wondered if the gloves on his cybernetic hands had sensory neurons, if he were to chop off one of them...would Vader _feel_ pain. Would he scream as Anakin did on Mustafar, or would he brush it off and just continue pleasuring him. 

The air around stiffened with a sodden perfume. The honeyed taste of Anakin’s scent danced on his tongue an all-too-familiar odor. Pure of another’s, no longer tainted by Padme’s, Obi-wan greedily inhaled the sugary aroma- indulging himself with the memory of his former Padawan on top of him and not the Sith. With his eyes closed he focuses on the pheromones, contorting reality into fiction: he lies there not being touched by Vader but _his_ sweet Anakin. The man he once fell in love with.

A moaned gasp escape his lips when the gloved hands gently tug at his nipples, his back arches from the sensation. Vader's dolce twists ease his swollen nubs and to sooth them the Sith massages the pink tissue with his thumbs- circling the overestimated area, Vader moves his hands to his sides, charting over the numerous scars and blemishes on his wounded skin.

“This one .” He runs a finger across a scar under Obi-wan’s lower naval, “Where did you get this from.” Obi-wan’s heart ceases to beat. He tries to push the Sith away but Vader doesn’t yield instead he tightens his grip on the Omega’s hips- nailing him to the mattress. Some nauseous part of Obi-wan wants Vader to thrash him on the ground and boot him till he sees stars, but the Sith wouldn’t do that.

“It’s nothing.” The Omega upon the realization that Vader won’t budge stops his shoving. Defeated, he lies there, cornered and trapped he stops moving, stops breathing. Vader touches the velvety scar tissue, he removes himself from atop of Obi-wan and stands on the bedside. His rhythmic breathing echoes through the silence- cutting into Obi-wan’s nerves as his skin breaks out with goosebumps. The Omega tucks his knees to his chest as he stares at the Sith. 

Vader doesn’t say a word and it’s better that way. He doesn’t want to speak about his past, it’s one of the few things he can’t talk about without crying like a damaged animal. He looks down at his stomach and watches the scar bob up and down as he breaths. Reminisce screams in his ears as his Master’s voice plays in his voice, ringing static into his ears while he cradles his face on his knees. 

Vader doesn’t press him about the scar. A somber hum sweetness the air around Obi-wan- leaving a saccharine that Anakin and now Vader had come to understand to be distress. The Sith sits next to him, an awkward large arm wraps around the Omega and pulls Obi-wan closer to him. Obi-wan's head shoots up, fresh tears coat his reddened cheeks as he gawks at Vader. He wants to shove him away, escape the embrace and hide in the fresher, but he feels something- something he hadn’t felt since Anakin’s last night with him.

Sour zeal seeps from under the Sith’s armour, Obi-wan darts his head to a vibrating chest plate. A low irritated, grumbling purr rises from behind the durasteel- once a loud roar now reduced to a low whimper of its former glory. _Of course,_ Vader couldn’t croon. He needs oxygen for that- functioning lungs to supply the instinct. Lungs he does not have, lungs that Obi-wan damaged. 

Some part of him wishes he left Anakin to die. Some part of him wishes that when Anakin burned, that he didn’t pull the Sith toward him- that he should have given the fallen Jedi a merciful death and sliced his throat or pushed him into the lava, but _No_. That’s not what Obi-wan did. Obi-wan was anything but merciful. He condemned the hollow shell that was once Anakin into a life of misery. He sealed it by having compassion- compassion that enabled him to commit the gravest mistake. Out of pity, he watched Anakin burn and out of love he pulled him out from the flames, extinguished them and left. 

He should have killed Vader when he had the chance. He should have seen the monster that underneath the molten flesh- underneath the evaporated tears, behind rageful curses but No. When Obi-wan saw him like that he did not see a monster- the monster that holds him now, he saw _his_ Anakin dying, and he couldn’t bear to watch the boy he raised call out to him in suffering. Watch his back being consumed by fire, his beautiful curls sizzling off, the gagging smell of burnt flesh, the way his scent flared into _agony-distress-fear-rage._ **NO** , Obi-wan would rather swear himself into damnation than know that he left Anakin to burn alive. He would rather leave Anakin there on the cold duracrete to wither away- wheezing for air as his scorched flesh dries off and hardens. He would rather leave Anakin there laying on the platform- safe and away from the lava. 

Obi-wan leans into the cold steel of the Sith’s armor- laying his head on Vader’s shoulder, the Omega’s turmoil ceases, even if it is for a moment, he can feel himself drifting into nostalgia. Him and Anakin together, _alone_ , laying next to one another, their fingers entangled as Anakin brushes his hair with his metallic other hand.

“Kenobi.” Vader’s voice snaps him out of the daze. He feels the arm around him tighten to an uncomfortable degree. He winces at the pain. _The pain!_ The Sith hears this and immediately retracts his claws- moving away from the Omega, Vader almost stumbles back as he jolts onto his feet. Aghast in his scent, the Sith distances himself from the bedside and sits in the chair several feet away from Obi-wan. 

His throat is dry almost parched, Obi-wan’s hurt overwhelms the distress and coats the room with a floral fragrance . He mourns the pain of having Vader’s digits dig into his flesh and then he speaks, quiet and submissive, “Why won’t you hurt me.”

Vader is almost defeated in his tone, no longer scenting comfort, stiffens his stance into remorse, “Hurting you, is to admit that Skywalker lives when he does not. His pettiness will not and can not hurt you, Kenobi. Not as long as I am here to protect you.” 

A chill runs down the Omega's spine. He feels his chest knot into a ball, the weight crashes and churns into his abdomen. Obi-wan’s gaze lowers back to his stomach. The scar on his waist sneers back at him- it’s half crest pattern curls up on both ends- smiling, it taunts him.

He _killed_ Anakin…

Obi-wan fumbles further onto the bed- breaking into a cold sweat, his breaths start becoming erratic. He finds himself gasping for air in a matter of seconds. Gagging on his own tongue, he grabs his sides and cuts into his flesh with his nail. 

**_Pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-pain-PAIN-PAIN-PAIN-PAIN-PAIN-PAIN-PAIN!_ **

Heat, he feels a burning in his throat, mouth, eyes, and nose. It’s slowly seeping into every limb- making him acutely aware of the silk and fabric crawling on his skin. He sees Anakin, there laying by Vader’s feet. The Fallen Jedi is crying, he’s screaming something but Obi-wan can’t hear him- everything is a blur. Anakin’s flesh melts with every syllable, his face losing it’s handsome features and leaving behind a mutilated beast. 

**“I HATE YOU!” The beast speaks.**

_No, this isn’t real._ Obi-wan grabs his head and pulls on his hair. _This isn’t real_! He feels the soft pop of strands leaving the scalp as he yanks at his head. 

**"OBI-WAN!" The beast's gurgled cries a hoarse call. It's eyes flaming yellow, the skin on it's head a simmering crimson, it's lips darkened with blood. It heaves once more- in agony, "OMEGA!"**

Lost, Obi-wan finds himself surrounded by the hellish hue of Mustafar, his pulse quickens as he pans over his environment. His heart melts when he doesn't see Vader.

**Again the beast wails, a sodden noise filled with hatred, it's eyes lock onto his and for a moment, Obi-wan ceases to exist. "** _Master, help me_ _._ **" The plea strikes a chord, resonating in a minor, grim key, he kills Anakin Skywalker.**

Obi-wan feels his heart's thunderous cries, his finger tips are heavy- dread envelopes his body, smothering him into a panic. Vision fades, as he repeats Anakin's death.

**With a touch of the Force, he damns his brother. Levitating it toward him, the Omega removes the flames and cradles it in his arms. The beast merges in and out of existence as Obi-wan sobs, "I love you. I love you. I love you."**

_No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No,_

_No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No,_

_No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No,_

_No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No,_

_No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No,_

He feels a sudden on the bed dip as his body falls onto Vader’s, he pries the Omega’s hands off his head and holds them- his metallic grip cuts into his joints but Obi-wan doesn’t care. He’s too distraught to think anything of his body. They share a moment of silence and then he smells that familiar scent that always seemed to calm him. His heart wretches as he curls into Vader’s chest. Sobbing he argues, “Please, pl-please, _Anakin hurt me_.”

"Kenobi." Vader releases the Omega's wrists, "I am not Skywalker."

**"MASTER!"**

_Make me forget this pain. Please make me forget Anakin, make me forget them…._

"Then lie to me." The Omega nestles into the crook of Vader's neck- inhaling the faint smell. He holds a hand over the scar on his stomach. His mind flutters at the memory of the knife- cutting into him. How the pain eased his heartache. How badly he wanted to be good. _Good for Jinn._

"Yes, Master." The Sith lies. Gloved hands find themselves caressing his skin. Tugging at the hem of his pants- stripping him of his layers, Vader pauses to admire the sun-kissed skin at his fingertips. He palms the Omega’s breasts- circles his nipples till they harden. Obi-wan squirms as he opens his legs- stretching his frame to accommodate the Sith. Vader settles in between pretty thighs- muscles contract and ease as he Obi-wan wraps his ankles on the small of the Sith’s back. 

The Omega yanks on the chain connecting the cape on his shoulder and Vader allows himself to be pulled. His voice is soft, needy, hurt, _“Anakin. Please_ ..” The air is once again plagued with sweetened distraught, “ _Hurt me.”_

“Master.” It’s a low, defeated growl, similar to Anakin’s possessive croon when he forced himself on Obi-wan for the first time. Remorse is heavy in his tone, “ _I can’t_.”

Tears stream down his face- the loss is too great. The death of the man he loved is too much. To mourn him is too daunting of a task and so all he wishes to do is forget. Wipe his memory clean of what tethered him to agony- to the pain of savoured longing, to the yearning burned into every fiber of his bones, to the hatred festering inside him. The sour, gaggingly sweet envy he felt toward Anakin's wife, the lust, the greed, the passion he felt as he was being taken- used till he was incoherent, till Anakin had his fill, till the Alpha knotted him. _Everything_ . He wants to erase _everything, but can’t..._

A finger traces the Omega’s clavicle - palming hardened skin, Vader inches into each scarred blemish with enthusiasm, savouring the yelps from Obi-wan as he charts into every small divot. Adoration nuzzles out from underneath his armour, rejoicing into the air. Obi-wan takes deep breaths- relishing the luscious fragrance. Drowning himself in the praise, Obi-wan loses himself in the aroma.

He does not exist, not as he is. There is no _injured_ Obi-wan. He is not mourning. He is not grieving. His heart does not ache when Vader mimics the violent touches Anakin once tried to scrub off his skin, the diligent lathering of his body till it became wrinkled. Praying to Obi-wan to forgive him for hurting him and the Omega did. For all the gentle kisses and caressing that preceded their first encounter, Anakin always had sadistic tendencies- tendencies that inflicted pain on him, tendencies that tore up his insides- made him bleed and unable to sit down properly. The tenderness was always short lived with each thrust it became more carnal- hate driven, the years of repression festered into an animalistic claiming. Even as the Omega cried Anakin did not stop. _No_ , he was there to please the Alpha and not himself; there was no need for him to receive any pleasure.

Obi-wan trembles as the Sith wraps his hands around his chest, his thumbs slowly massage his nipples till they hardened. His back arches as Vader slows the pace- skimming over the nubs, the Omega feels something trace over every scar on his body. The sensations of feathery plush nurse his skin, but Vader's hands are still wrapped around the back of his chest. 

He winces as the sensations morph into velvety orifices- suckling at his scars, they travel up his abs, lingering on the healed wounds. Obi-wan moans then slaps a hand over his mouth when he feels one suck on his nipple. 

His hips buckle as more and more pepper his torso, kissing and licking the flesh. Some distant part of him wants to scream, but not from the assault. _No_ , he wants to damn Vader for perverting the Force; he want to lecture the Sith and warn him not to use it for his sick needs--

A strangled whimper echoes through the room. They tenderly tug at his nipples, as Vader's thumbs circle the nubs. He feels himself losing sight of the agony of Anakin's passing. He bites down on his palm, choking back cries, as the sensations intensify. 

His hips squirm against Vader's. Heat pools in his groin with every heave. His body urges him to touch, but he can't. He doesn't deserve it. 

Another louder groan escapes him. He shudders in place as more orifices litter his skin. The heat translates into stiffness as he feels his pants become uncomfortable. He craves friction but he shouldn't, not in front of Vader…

The Alpha looks at the small tent in Obi-wan's pants. Enjoyment bleeds from under his armour, he removes one hand wrapped around the Omega's back and palms the hardened silhouette. The legs on his waist spasm as he applies pressure.

He diligently drags his palm down Obi-wan’s exposed torso, until he grazes past the large scar on the Omega’s lower naval, Vader wraps a hand around the cock. He feels the man beneath him shudder as his glove travels down- with greedy pumps, Obi-wan's muffled grunts morph into moans. 

The Omega squirms under the Force's touch, tears roll down his cheeks as his body reacts. Tension builds in his stomach with every pump of Vader's hand. He feels himself close- too close for comfort and with a spasm he comes in the Sith's hand. Messy strips of white drip off Vader's fingers, he takes a moment to admire the rivulets before bringing his hand to Obi-wan's mouth.

He needn't say a command. The Omega opens his mouth and takes the slicked digits in, one by one- cleaning them of their coating. Dazed, Obi-wan tastes himself, his eyelids are heavy from the tears and with every suckle he feels himself growing weaker and before he can shove Vader off he drifts into sleep.

The Sith waste no time: wipes the sweat from the Omega's skin. And again, Vader removes the kit off his belt and takes out the hypodermic needle. He sterilizes Obi-wan’s forearm before inserting it, and draws blood. The hollow tubing fills with crimson nectar. Afterward, he dresses Obi-wan, tucks him under the covers and leaves.

  
  


| | | 

_His poise was slack, uncaring- his scent unfazed, the Force around him carried a disappointed instability to it, one might confuse it with worry, but really it was anxiety- fueled by the lack of an adrenaline rush from his addiction, gambling. Jinn leaned against the white walls of the Halls of Healing, his arms crossed as he stood in bitter silence. Che stumbled out of the main operating theater. Her blue skin glistened with sweats as she ran over to Jinn._

_Her strike, purposeful and irritated, with a determined aura in her stance he hissed a low whisper, “How long did you know about this?”_

_The Alpha hummed in response, his face stern with indifference. “I just found him.” Jinn faked concern as he walked over to the one of the large windows overseeing the operating theater. Peering inside, medical droids were organizing surgical tools. Covered in blood their silver plating glowed a vibrant crimson and brown, the Alpha bit back a gloat._

_Che narrowed her gaze as she followed the Alpha’s movements. She took a deep inhale- scrutinizing the neutrality of Jinn’s scent, he reached out into the Force and probed at the man’s shielding. She felt a sort of anxious tick, “Sithspit.” She pried Jinn’s gaze off the window with an arm- violently turning him toward her. “You knew he was pregnant!”_

_A tremor radiated into the Force as her face hardened with disbelief. Goosebumps spread throughout her body from the undying, cold look on Jinn’s face, “If I’d known he won’t be here.” The Alpha yanked his arm away from her grip. Angered, he stared at the Padawan on the surgical table._

_Che scoffed, she brought a hand to her forehead- wiped the sweat then palmed it. She stared off into the operating theater. “You’re undeserving of a Padawan.” Their gazes locked. Jinn stood his ground- glaring at the Beta, but she did not waver. She met his intensity with rage. Unaffected by Jinn’s scent she stepped forward, conviction in her tone, “You’re a_ **_monster._ ** _”_

_“The Council will never believe you.” Jinn backed away._

_Furious she stormed back into the operating theater. The door whistled behind her. Her anger melted into concern as he hurried over to the Omega on the operating table. Obi-wan’s breathing was swallowed, his torso coated in a pinkish hue from the blood, his stomach sunken at the seams. She watched as the teenager struggled to keep a steady pulse. Her eyes naturally wandered to the stitches on his lower abdomen. The anger once again flared._

_She darted her head to the window overseeing the theater. Jinn was gone. She squared her jaw as she marched out toward the door, but before she could leave she heard a faint whimper from Obi-wan. She immediately rushed back to the bedside, “Pup, are you alright?”_

_The Omega’s innate sob died into a confusion. He winced as he tried to sit upright but the wound won’t allow him to. His eyes widened as he stared back at the sneer on his lower stomach. A panic seeped into the Force as his scent heaved into a frenzy. “Where’s my Master?”_

_She held the Omega’s hand, her heart ached from Obi-wan’s priorities, “He’ll be here momentarily.” She lied. Jinn left off to Force knows where. “You should rest, pup.”_

_“No, no. Wh-what abouthe-” Obi-wan’s pulse quickened._

_“The blood loss was too great. The fetus didn’t make it.” She palmed the Omega’s cheek, “Now rest.”_

_“Bu-but myMaster.”_

_“He’ll be here when you wake.” She set his head down on the table._

_Obi-wan watched as Che left. Moments after the door whistled open, and the room was flooded with his Master’s scent. The Omega flinched when his Master loomed over him. Jinn’s knuckles turned white as he clutched onto the table. Towering over the defenseless Omega Jinn leaned over to Obi-wan’s ear, calm and almost lovingly, “You cost me the races. “_

_“Ma-ahste.” Jinn shushed the Omega with a finger. The digit pressed against Obi-wan’s pursed lips._

_“Hush, pup.” Jinn's hand travels from the bedside to the Omega's shoulder, the warmth of the palm bleeds a false security. His Master looks inconvenienced as he eyes the wound on Obi-wan's lower naval. The Alpha runs a finger across the seams of the stitches, Obi-wan winces from the contact. Blood oozes from the newly sealed wound as Jinn digs his thumb into the tender line where collagen and flesh are interwoven. He chuckles when the Omega cries out in pain- hot tears develop in his eyes._

_Obi-wan watches in fear as Jinn brings the thumb to his mouth and licks off blood, his tongue hungry laps up the crimson in one slick movement. The Alpha takes a deep inhale- composing himself, the air around him becomes thick with fervor. “Have you ever tasted your own blood, Padawan.”_

_The color in Obi-wan's face drained and left behind a sickly pale. He felt tears dribble down his face._

_"An Omega's blood is pure, sweet...almost like candy." Jinn stares down at the wound, intentful and predatory, "Do you know how much an Alpha would pay to devour an Omega? Especially one in heat." He tenderly drags his hand across Obi-wan's side. "It's too bad you killed the fetus, it's a delicacy in the Outer Rim."_

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Vader has a functioning penis. He just uses toys because I want him to use toys- coz like...Obi-wan and toys tehehe
> 
> I hope you guys are taking care of yourselves! >.< Wear a mask and like don't die! lol
> 
> I don't know what kind of pent up emotions I have to write something this twisted, but hey what can you do about it. OML GUYS! why aren't there more Forced Pregnancies in this ship? Like it's a gold mine! OML, and like just more abos in general we must fix this!!


	4. a pompous cry for the coarses’s skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! I hope you guys are going great. I'm just here to add some negativity to the world in the form of angst. (winks) enjoy, you masochists

His reflection never lied- not during the war, and not now. Obi-wan feather his fingertips under his eyes- feeling the heavy sunken sockets. A darkened purple sat underneath his solemn grey irises. An ugly black that fused horribly with the dead pale shade on his cheeks and the brittle rust on his chap lips. It's been getting harder and harder to sleep. He brings his hand to the bridge of his nose and massages it with his thumb and index finger. The impending probability of the Sith being in the same room with him frightens him to the core. He knows that Vader wouldn’t try anything while he sleeps, _ that’s a given _ . Afterall, the Sith waited for Obi-wan to be awake- he would _ never _ , but he  _ so  _ easily could. 

The Omega sighs bringing his hands to the fresher’s countertop, his knuckles turn white as they hold onto the marveled ledge. He lowers his head, defeated and tired, Obi-wan momentarily closes his eyes and drifts into a void- trying to connect to the Force. He calls out, and a faint glimmer speaks back. A rush of satisfaction runs through him as he feels his connection vibrate with joy. He can’t quite feel the Force to the extent that he once had, but it is there nonetheless. Timid in it’s reply, she soothes him with light shockwaves that surges through his signature and body. 

A laugh escapes him as he adjusts himself. With his eyes still closed, Obi-wan stands upright- straightening his back and crossing his arms, he takes deep breaths as he tries to fortify the weakened connection. It flickers in the void, beatened by the suppressants. He approaches the connection with the expertise of a novice, enveloping it in his signature, but that does not strengthen it. Muddled in his conviction, Obi-wan tries again, over and over until he feels himself dizzied. He stumbles forward and catches himself against the countertop for support. Fatigue overwhelms him, his vision is blurry- fading in and out. 

Struggling to compose himself he lifts his gaze _. Reflections do not lie. _ He sees there, as he’s bent over the mirror, a figure standing behind him. It’s much larger than him, broader, taller, a darkened blur behind him, it extends a hand to touch him- he spins around. His heart pounding. His mind coming to the worst of conclusions. Vader, but when he turns he’s met with no one. He darts his head back to the transparisteel, and there’s no one there. He heaves himself off the counter and onto his feet. Startled, Obi-wan takes one last look at his reflection. He runs his hands through his hair- feeling the soft collagen beneath his palm. “I look like Sithspit.” 

The light coating of sweat on his pale skin contrasts with the sapphire on his torso. A long dress hangs over his chest- another lavished gift from the Sith. It’s length ends below his hips- it’s a tight, almost hugging fit. Expertly crafted for an Omega’s body or more specifically his body. Lean, the fabric dipped at his waist as it traveled down. It’s impeccable design mirrored that of Padme’s style. It’s gorgeous, with it’s laced seams and intricate patterns but he can’t help but feel like a replica- a cheat imitation of Anakin’s wife. It’s sleeves hood his knuckles as it leaves his fingers naked, he glares at his reflection almost damning it for its beauty. Vader had great taste, and he hates it. Everything the Sith provided him complimented him perfectly, from the shoes to the undergarments. Everything he ever wanted laid behind rich Onderon pine. 

Obi-wan marches from the fresher into the room- or better yet, his  _ cell _ . He really did prefer the old dented hues of grey, it was much better than being taunted by freedom. He walks over to the window. It’s clear surface spanned from each corner of the wall- teasing him, as he stared off into the landscape of the Star Destroyer. More plain grey, but above it a horizon of vibrant explosive color. Galaxies filled with individuals doing far better than he. 

Obi-wan brings his hand to the transparisteel- letting the tepid cold bleed into the flesh of his palm, he presses his forehead on the surface. A lump develops in his throat. He wants to run- to break the window and freeze to death, anything, anything to escape Vader and his sick, twisted game.  _ A child _ ! The blasted Sith wanted a child! From him. The thought is enough to make him coil in agony.

Irritated, he turns his heel away from freedom and leans against the window. His back slides down the cold surface as he sits down on the floor. A calming chill stemmed from his chest to his wrists as he takes a meditative stance. Trying to reach out to the Force, Obi-wan closes his eyes and tries again.

His attempts are met with low whispers. A flickering light. Close to nothingless. He sits there, lamenting as he tries over and over. Ruining himself with every brush, flicker, every spark, every fleeting amber. He can’t properly connect and it hurts him. He needs to speak to her. He needs to vent. He needs to release all of his emotion into the Force. To block them out-- t _ hrough her _ , but she  _ doesn’t  _ or  _ can’t  _ answer. 

He feels his inside burn with a rage he can’t come to comprehend as anything other than blasphemous _. A Jedi does not feel rage _ . Furious, he stands and stomps over to the wardrobe. He opens the wooden doors and stares at a sea of emerald and apricot- every color neatly organized from to his liking. Patterns on patterns, all reminiscent of Padme. Warm soft colors folded atop its highest shelve. He hates it. Hates that every piece is to his liking. Hates that his favorites textures are there, in front of him.

He looms over the hollow furitune filled with things to his liking- his fucking liking. He sighs as he closes the door, he turns to the vanity set beside the wardrobe. He hates the fact that Vader knows him well enough to get him soft palates of blush and paint. He runs a finger across the table till his hand palms the drawer, he opens it and inside is what he loathes the most. 

Beautifully thin rivulets of gold and silver drip from his fingers as he lifts the chain. It’s a long piece, spanning from his wrist for his shoulder. He holds it up to admire it. It’s pattern becomes more evident as he cradles it in his hands. Stretching it he discovers it’s meant for his _ thigh _ ….

He loathes that the Omega inside him wants to strip and try the intricate jewelry. That the Omega inside him wants to flaunt around such a luxurious chain. That the Omega inside him wants to pair it with a top and walk naked around his cell. Admire his reflection while he dances in the mirror. Smile and laugh as he embraces his nature. He loathes that when he looks inside the drawer, it's an endless array of expensive charms, chokers, anklets and bracelets. 

_ ‘Never bracelets?’ _ He remembers Anakin’s voice. They once laid on a bed together- faint blush on his face from one of their less _ hate driven  _ sessions. Anakin was propped on his side as he stared into the Omega’s eyes, intentful and curious, ‘ _ What do you have against bracelets?’ _

A faint smile curls on his lips as he reminisces one of the few instances when the Alpha held a genuine interest in his wants. He holds the chain to his thigh- trying to check the fit through his pants. He feels himself laugh as the gold hugs his leg, gently splitting the fat underneath the fabric. He takes it from his thigh and holds it back up in the air. “It’s because I always want my hands to be free, just in case I have to fight someone.” 

He hears Anakin’s reply clear in his mind- almost as if he was reliving the memory, Obi-wan repeats what the Alpha asked him that night,  _ “And if you didn’t have to fight anyone? Would you wear a bracelet? _ ” Impersonating Anakin, he places the chain back and picks up a thin golden plated bracelet and slides his hand into the ring, “If I didn’t have to fight…” He remembers the hesitation he had that night, how the words were heavy on his tongue, “...If I wasn’t a Jedi,” _ ‘And if I was allowed to be an Omega. _ ’ His psyche continues with the words he didn’t dare utter to Anakin, “I would wear whatever I ever wanted.”

_ He would _ . 

And there was a time where he wanted to. Where he would leave the Order to be adorned with lavish praise, a time where he had an Alpha that would love him unconditionally. An Alpha that would kiss his every wound and heal his broken bones. She was beautiful. With her light golden hair- a color that was far richer than the one in his hand. The bracelet refracted the cosmos’s light. 

He remembers what being loved felt like. Being taken to a room-  _ to her room _ . She walks over to her vanity set and takes out a necklace, her warm smile as she beckoned him to strip and he did so. Enthusiastic in his movement. Obi-wan removed his clothes, and waited. She laughed as she went over to her closet and picked out faltering apparel. Once dressed in her clothing, he sat down as she placed the necklace on his neck. 

**“My Omega.” Satine’s honeyed voice rang in his ear.**

He takes his hand out and places the bracelet down. Once he was loved. Once someone touched him in earnest. Those hands. Her hands. Soft palms and painted nailed caresses and scratched his back. The memory of her scent. The thick pomade smell of the room once they were done. The goofy smile on her face as he adjusted her hair. The feel of his Padawan braid against his shoulder as he leaned in to meet her lips. 

“Claim me.” A shudder ran through him when he told Satine his wish, and that same shudder runs through him as he repeats that same wish out loud. An expired yearning, an unspoken weight in his heart- slowly dragging him down to the depth of Hell. Something that will never be fulfilled not by her at least. One can’t be claimed by the dead.

**“Darling, I can’t.” Her voice contorts into Jinn’s and then Anakin’s.**

Battle scars. He called them. The countless scars and bruises on his body from his heats.  _ No _ , to call them ‘his heats’ would give him adjacency, a free will when he had none. So, when she asked about the blemishes on his skin he lied. Fantastical myths- legends of a perfect Master, or a perfect childhood, of him being loved by the man that didn't care enough to take him back to their motel- a man that dragged him by his hair to hordes of men. A man who only wanted to live on rushes of adrenaline.

Yet another Alpha that said ‘No’. Jinn. The conjured perfect in his head calmed him as he stared into her eyes after she denied him. He pretended to understand when he really didn’t. He didn’t understand a word that came out of her mouth as she explained why she  _ would not claim _ him. It was something about the Jedi and how much potential he had. _ It was all lies.  _ His real potential laid with her- in her presence, filled with her. But Satine never indulged the thought of children or a life together. No, they couldn’t because of the Jedi.

How many times had he been denied. How many times had he been let down by them. Those he loved. People- _ No _ , Alphas he trusted. He slams the drawer shut. 

Selfish in his wants. His need to belong. Once he was held with love by them. Anakin, Satine, and Jinn. Once they touched him and then never again. Only Anakin did, but his touches were not done out of love and he knew this. He’d always known but some part of him wished that it wasn’t true- that Anakin loved him dearly. That violence was the only way in which the Alpha could communicate endearment but he knew this to be false. 

| | | 

_ “Excuse me.” The door clicked open. Obi-wan flinched when he recognized the voice. The clone closed the door behind him- keeping it unlocked, he approached the Omega. Standing a reasonable distance from the bed that Obi-wan sat on, Cody lowered his gaze onto the floor- unable to look at the Omega, he spoke, low and hopeful, “General,” his voice died down when he inhaled. _

_ A sweet zesty fragrance drifted in the air around the Omega- a glazed pleasant taste lingered on the clone’s tongue as he stepped back, being mindful of not scenting Obi-wan. Cody still held his head down. “General.” He gathered his resolve. “The men and I...we’re concerned.”  _

_ Obi-wan cocks a brow. The Omega stands proud- unaffected by the bitter stress oozing off the Alpha. The back of his throat becomes thick as he inhales the metallic taste. He would gag if he weren’t used to being exposed to such raw, untamed emotion but being around Alphas his entire life groomed him into being tranquil when approached.  _

_ “Concerned about?” Obi-wan tilts his head. _

_ “Sir.” The Alpha steps into his personal space, reaches out and caresses Obi-wan’s swollen cheek. The Omega hisses as the clone feathers his cheekbone. Cody’s face melts into remorse as he retracts his hand and plasters it to his side.  _

_ With his eyes locked onto the hellish bruise under Obi-wan’s eyes he takes out a small box from his belt. Hesitant, he extends his hand to the Omega, “We tried to pick a color that suited you, but the men and I aren’t suited to such things.” _

_ Obi-wan furrows his brows as he takes the box. It’s concealer- an expensive brand of paint made on the outskirts of Core Worlds. He holds the delicate packaging in his palm. In disbelief he traces his fingertips across the swollen area- wincing as shockwaves of pain trigger memories of Anakin. He stares at the thin cartons in his hand. A childish glee pulses through the Force as his scent becomes coarse with delight.  _

_ “Thank you.” _

_ "And General." Cody stammers. His can't bring himself to look the Omega so instead he settles for the bruise placed on Obi-wan by Anakin, "I understand that your heats- they're accommodated by General Skywalker." A low groan escapes the clone. Obi-wan instinctively covers his bruise, ashamed of his shortcoming. "The men and I, we don't want you injured every time your heat comes around." Cody closes the gap between then- cornering Obi-wan to the bedside. "Please, " He takes the Omega's hand in his, "I don't-- don't want you to rely on Anakin any longer." _

_ Naturally, Obi-wan scoffs- as would anyone else neck deep in abuse after all. He meets Cody's gaze with skepticism. "And who do you propose tends my heats?" He knows the answer. Hopefully, the air around him swells with faith. _

_ "General." Cody's forehead creases, his eyes an earnest shade of pity as he looks into Obi-wan's, "I would be honored to."  _

_ The Omega swallows the lump in his throat. He should be shocked, appalled that someone other than Anakin holds an interest, but he's not. The bruise heavy under his eye- that bitter sting reminds him of what hatred is- what love isn't. "Cody…" _

_ "No. General. It would be my honor." Cody firmly holds his hand- cradling it in warm,  love.  "We don't want such an inept Alpha taking care of you." He reaches out and cups Obi-wan's chin, distant and caring Cody whimpered "You deserve better."  _

_ "Cody, I…" He stopped by the sudden pressure on his lips. It takes him a moment to process the feel of Cody's skin on his, the feel of chaste kiss. He should scream, he should shove the Commander away but he melts under the touch. Wanting more, Obi-wan leans against the armoured clone. Breaking their kiss Obi-wan hides his flushed face in the crook of Cody's neck, "I'm sorry. I don't think you can help dear-- _

_ "I can claim." The Alpha brought his hand to Obi-wan's nape. Tightly bracing his fingers through the back is the Omega's neck, he pulled their bodies closer. Surging with intimacy, Cody nuzzled Obi-wan's neck, inhaling the sweet perfumes, "I can claim you." His voice reverently remorseful- apologetic he didn't suggest this sooner, "You can be our's" He watched through hooded lashes, Obi-wan's pink parted lips- the quivers of fear, joy, pride. The clone sealed those pretty lips with his, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, the Omega moaned into the Commander's mouth. Obi-wan dropped the concealer on the floor as his hands fumbled onto the clone's shoulders. _

_ "Ours?" The Omega gasped, breathlessly taken aback by the plural implication. _

_ "Yes." Cody mouthed his cheek, earnestly kissing the skin, "The 212th. All of us. Every clone. “ He paused, taking in the Omega’s wanton expression, “We all love you.” Feeling Obi-wan’s breath hot on his lips- craving more, he ceased the moment and sealed their lips together. Scenting a deep unrelenting affection Cody fastened his hands to the Omega’s waist, “Please. General.” Goosebumps peppered his skin as the clones held him, secure, warm and loved, “He’ll never touch you again. I promise.” _

_ Yet another lie from an Alpha.  _

| | | 

He knows that he shouldn’t. It isn’t very “Jedi like.” His captor gave him this. He holds the chain in his hand- it glimmers in the nebulous light, reflecting vibrant color into the room. The thin charm calls to him with its painstaking subtlety. He wants this even though he knows it’s not in his right to have it. How he’s craved such a lavished gift- such frivolous things from another, from an Alpha. His anger softens as a certain Naulotan comes to mind, although not an alpha Fisto once brought treasures like the one in his palm to him. He holds the chain to his thigh again. Kit would have loved to see him in this.

Curious, Obi-wan takes the chain in his hands and marches to the foot of the bed. A giddiness forms in his gut as he undoes the laces on his belt, stripping himself of his trouser he dashes to the fresher. Entertained with the jewelry he fumbles to the large mirror on the wall. He staggers for a moment. This is wrong, he rationalizes. Everything about this is wrong. Unconvinced, he lowers hands to his toes- stretching his torso, he slips his foot past the first ring of jewelry. This is very wrong. He shouldn't indulge such fervor. The chain slides past his knee and onto his thigh. Strapping the chain to his waist he takes a moment to stare at his reflection.

The golden iron cuddled his thigh. Luminous and shameless in his beauty, Obi-wan stood in front of the large mirror in the freshers. His legs exposed as he stands, with his hand on his mouth- hiding his smile, he turns his leg to various angles, memorized by the chain dangling off his waist and onto his leg. He feels the once cold metal soak his body heat. The way it shone under the fresher lights flickered a childish glee inside him.

Wrapping around his thigh, the jewelry hugged the tender flesh- partially splitting the thin layer of fat above his muscle. He’s in shock really. He’d never tried anything this audacious before, he wasn’t allowed to and with good reason to. He looks at the thin golden lining squeezing his thigh. It’s unabashed fervor suits him. It’s small pearls on his waist blend magnificently into the triangular patterns cascading down his hip and falling onto his leg. 

He feels the loose chain around his waist getting caught on the fabric of his shirt. Curious, he lifts the garment to reveal his waist. The scar on his lower abdomen is hidden by the light strands of silver and gold coating his hips and waist. The piece twists into seamless ornaments, lacing his body in elegance as it meticulously hides his scars and if not hides, then blends perfectly with the freshly pink scar tissue.

The woven gold and silver scratches the laced undergarment. A small part of him- almost an insignificant part, really, screams, begs him to cease this ogling. To stop indulging himself in this frivolous action- that such gawking is only reserved for real Omegas. One’s with the time to be dolled and lavished, not him. No, he can’t. No matter how nicely the silken and costly laced shorts looked on him. Obscene, absolutely obscene. The dip from his waist to his hips- the way the strings of minerals shone in the light, the way his thigh seemed to  _ almost  _ glisten. All of it.

He palms the satin fabric. It’s unbearably soft, tight around his hip. Defeated, he drops his blouse. It falls and buries the chain and lingerie. He massages his temples as he leans against the fresher’s counter- reprimanding himself for letting his inner nature take hold of him. Truly, he was an Omega with such inhibitions that to allow himself to be spoiled was as if to forsake the Jedi teachings and he knows himself to be of faithful allegiance. 

Weak minded and naive are things that he is not and as such he will not be swooned by simple commodities- cosset in the he might, they are after all, the only available garments around and, Obi-wan lifts the blouse to take on last look at the gold and silver, it would be a shame to  _ not  _ wear such an alluring piece.  _ Yes _ , it would be. He enthusiastically knobs for a moment- bathing the fresher with a glazed optimism, but sadly the brightness fades into as he lowers the shirt back onto his waist.

He remembers her voice. Her disappointment. Her cold words the way she stigmatized his yearn for lavishment. Satine clothed him as he wished to be when he was a child. Ever since he presented as an Omega. Soaking up glimpses of other’s with his same nature all adorned in soft palettes, paints and emeraldas. Their smiles and heightened fragrances. How on their hands always laid and Alpha- guarding them as if some crystal statute. Simple, callow and selfish in their wantings. All of them. Omegas, pleasing in their scent, beautiful in their signatures- more luminescent than the brightest star, extravagant in their nature with their narrow waist and broad hips. All of them. Having the one thing that he can never and will never grant. 

A mild chill runs down his spin at the thought of bearing for the Sith- for Anakin. He’s past that. He needn’t the forged affection from a hollow shell, he needn’t from his Master- or anyone for that matter.  _ Yes _ , his hearts did not ache and bleed at the thought never bearing fruit. It once had and he regrets ever feeling much cognitions but through mediation and with the Force he can prevent his body from craving it. Obi-wan covers his eyes with his palm- blinding himself from the reality.

He can convince himself as much as he wants, but that will not change the reality- the cold, gruesome cage he lives in. To be breed, his heart flutters at the thought but he controls the gentle buzz in his head by shooting down his nature. He needn’t a child nor an Alpha to feel complete.  _ No _ , not like this. Not under these dire circumstances. 

He manages to pry himself from the counter top. Gallantly, he turns his heel and exits the fresher, pulling on the door knob, Obi-wan pauses for a moment. His lips curl up into a smile as he watches space dances behind the large window. He feels himself lighten as the sky is painted a vibrant auburn, he touches his neck as tenderly brushes hair behind his ear . His Master once told him that he had the most beautiful hair color. Not quite blond, nor ginger. A cool strawberry shade, under starlight it appeared scarlet. Descriptively eye catching, a most begging to be stained with  _ blood _ . Beautiful…

Obi-wan lowers his head. Submissive and empty, he walks over the foot of the bed and stares down at the trousers wrinkled on the mattress. He looks down at the article, unable to bring himself to dress himself, Obi-wan climbs atop the bed and reclines on the center- limbs stretched out as he yawns. Dazed, he turns to the window and admires the shades of amber and fire. Contentment and ease roll of his body as he snuggles under the sheets. Enveloping himself in the smooth cloth, he closes his eyes and drifts into sleep.

_ She cradles his head in her lap. Her fingers comb through his hair- brushing the strands out of his face as she adjusts it to her liking and consequently his. Her smile is a soft genuine glow nothing like Jinn’s or Anakin’s forced endearment- it’s pure, sweet and deserving of an Omega. Obi-wan’s peers at their surroundings. He’s still in his cell.  _

_ “Obi-wan.” Her marmalade voice draws his attention back to her. “Look at me love.” And he does. The soft wrinkles on her face calm him. “Satine.” He manages to all but whisper- the Force gladdens around him as he feels her hands on his cheeks. _

_ “You’re even more beautiful than I remember.” She speaks a low purr- comforting him, with her light touches. The loving glint in her eyes melts his spirit, only leaving behind a hollow shell of self-doubt, he gazes upon her beauty. Breathlessly entranced by her, Obi-wan reaches out and curls her hair on his finger. "Look at you." _

_ She palms his chest, "You're beautiful." She croons as her hands run on his breast, "It looks magnificent on you." Obi-wan looks at his legs, he's still wearing the jewelry and lingerie Vader gifted him, behind his thighs he can see a blurry figure of a man- an alpha sitting down at the foot of the bed. Licking his thumb, the man flips through wades of credits- counting them in a methodical manner. Obi-wan's body tenses as he scrambles away from the Alpha by his feet and further into Satine’s arms. _

_ “He certainly is beautiful.” Jinn ceases his counting and stares at him then at Satine. He smiles and holds up the money in one hand as he stands- gesturing at Obi-wan with one hand he bows, gracefully, “He’s all yours.” _

He wrestles with air as he wakes. Panting and coated in sweat, Obi-wan springs to life. His limbs quiver as he scans his cell. It’s empty. _ Jinn isn’t here. Jinn isn’t here. _ He places a hand on his chest. A vile mixture of disgust and relief surge through his stomach- cultivating into contractions in his gut, expelling the contents from his belly and into his throat. Nausea crawled into his mouth as he gags on his tongue- recognizing the sensation he stumbles off the bed and into the fresher. His chest puffs as he liquid exits his mouth- scraping his throat, burning hot tears roll down his cheeks as more goopy substance leaves his mouth. With dry heaves he forces everything out, draining bile from his lips he lurched over the toilet. A pungent stench hangs itself in the fresher as gags and coughs echo through it. 

Once finished he cleans himself. Splashing cold water on his face, Obi-wan stares at his reflection. _ It was just a dream. He reminds himself. Jinn isn’t here. He’s dead _ . The prominent bags under his eyes are now horribly noticeable. He wipes his face and chin. Having calmed himself, Obi-wan leaves the fresher. His body tensed as he felt Vader’s looming presence. He turns his head slowly at the door to his cell. The Sith isn’t here yet, but Obi-wan can feel him coming closer. Every step of his boot sends chills down his spine. Quickly, the Omega fumbles to the bedside and shuffles through the sheets. “Pants. Pants. Where are my--there!” 

The door whistles open. A crippling cold brew runs through his veins as he hears Vader’s breathing. Rhythmic- taunting him with every circulation. Obi-wan doesn’t dare turn to greet the Sith instead he holds the article of clothing over his legs, blocking Vader from seeing his exposed form. _ It was foolish to try on such things! _

The garment is ripped from his fingertip with the Force. Obi-wan flinches as his palms feel the burn of the cloth. Vader stands in awe. Robust muscle enveloped in gold glimmers under the star light. The chain refracts the cosmos’s light off it- birthing sparkles on the walls of the room. Obi-wan’s body tenses. He rubs his thigh together- either out of embarrassment or anticipation. It didn’t matter, the Sith reacted to the subtle movement. Vader hesitates before he stutters before he approaches the Omega.

Instinctively the Omega begins to scent fear. It’s a soft peppermint smell that linger in the air. Enticing the Sith to touch, but he refrains himself. Instead choosing to ogle, Vader looms above him. Just staring.

He feels a vulnerability he’s only felt once...with Jinn.

Obi-wan lowers his head and bears his neck- a sign of submission, permission. But Vader doesn’t take to it. He just stands there, mocking him, staring, gawking, admiring how fragile and small the Omega is. How defenseless- how sickly Obi-wan looks. The Sith cups Obi-wan’s face and pries it up so that he may look Kenobi in the eyes. Those blackened, tired eyes hooded by thick, pretty lashes. The Omega looks dilapidated- defeated. Concerned, Vader runs his thumb over Obi-wan’s cheekbone, “You look unwell.”

He scoffs. How dare the Sith take pity on him. How dare he show such- such concern. “Spare me you sentiments.” Obi-wan yanks his chin from the Sith’s grasp and distances himself away from the bruting, dark figure.

“How have you been sleeping?” The Sith turns his head to the bed, scanning the bundled up sheet he lowers his gaze before bringing it back to the Omega, “Is the mattress to your liking?”

Obi-wan cocks his head. Defiant in nature he winds his tongue in his mouth- running along the top is his mouth he pauses to look at the mattress. He couldn’t care less about the damn bed. “Why are you here?” He crosses his arms on his chest. Silence. Vader doesn’t say a thing. The silence drills into the Omega’s bones. He wants answers, he wants to be set free. He wants control- adjacency over something- _ over anything _ . He grit his teeth. Some part of him feels scared, fearful that the Sith might try something, as if he is pure. Something being tainted by Vader when he’s not. No, he’s been sullied by many, many before the Sith. 

Vader scans him once more- his gaze linger on the body chain on his thigh. He hates himself for ever indulging such an innately selfish curiosity- an Omega’s stupid curiosity. Exhaling a shaky breath, Obi-wan rubs his legs together, trying to hide the jewelry tight on his skin. He snaps the Sith’s attention from his exposed thighs to his face, “Anakin.”

And that always seems to get a reaction out of Vader. It hurts to say that name. It hurts so badly to speak his mistake’s name. Such an angelic name ruined by flames by _ him _ . What a terrible mentor he was to the man he claimed to love.

Vader is still silent, but his gaze is now on his. Determined, Obi-wan pushes, “Why are you here?”

“I felt a disturbance.” Vader looks off into the cosmos. No longer gawking at the Omega’s barren form. He speaks, low with a glint of demanding, “You look unwell.”

Obi-wan stands there in silence. What is he to make of that? Is he really there to believe that the Sith rushed over because he was worried. No, he doesn’t. No. He won’t believe it. “I’m fine.” Stern and unflinching, the Omega lies. 

The Sith needn’t look at Obi-wan to know that the Omega trembles where he stands. That every bone in his body rattled with a fear only applicable to his enemies, and in a way Kenobi was his enemy but not in the conventional sense. No, this hatred ran much, much deeper. Vader glanced at Obi-wan before he brought his gaze back to the window, “Don’t lie to me Kenobi.” The Omega’s teeth chattered in his mouth. Afraid, he moved toward the bed- a safe haven. Dropping himself onto the mattress he watched as Vader stood there motionless. Uncaring about what Obi-wan did, Vader turned away from where Obi-wan laid and just watched as yellow tinted cosmos flew by.

When he wakes he doesn’t remember falling asleep. How could he? Not with Vader in the same room but he someone managed to sleep. He scans the cell and Vader is nowhere in sight.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Do you love Vader yet? Not yet? Aight aight...must try harder! and yes, I said fisto would have liked to see obi in a body chain. Make of that what you will~
> 
> i was about to drop a bomb in his chapter but I was like nah, im not that heartless UwU not yet it is too soon tehe


End file.
